The Wrong Kiss
by Shinigaminx
Summary: Au. A vampire hunter living in New York city, Relena stuggles to reconcile her past with a stragne future. She has reasons to hate vampires. Can she ever leave off her vendetta? 1x2xR, Not M till several chs. in, slight OOC Relena.
1. Round One

The Wrong Kiss ch.1

Shinigaminx

Notes: Ok, let's see… First posted fic, so, of course, pleeeease review. Comments will be replied to promptly and flames will be used to toast marshmallows. Oh, and uber AU Relena, but I promise, there is a method to the madness.

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Don't sue me, unless you want the lint in my pockets.

The Wrong Kiss

Shinigaminx

"I will never surrender!"

I went flying backwards and thudded against a brick wall. Gasping, I tried to fill my lungs again. Scrabbling inside my jacket for my pistol, I twisted away from the tall, sandy haired man's next attack.

"God damn" I paused and yanked the gun out and trained it on his forehead as he closed on me. "you! Why won't you -die-?"

He saw the gun and tried to duck down and backwards Grinning savagely, I helped him with a knock on the head, using the pistol as a club. He stumbled, almost falling and I brought it down on his head again. He fell to his knees and a snap kick to the throat laid him out on his back. Before he could get up I dropped down, one knee on his chest, the other pinning an outstretched arm. Whipping a vial out of my jacket and holding it threateningly over his head, I said, "Game's up. You lose."

"Not while I live! Long live the real king!" He growled deep in his throat and thrashed, but he couldn't get enough leverage to throw me. He scrabbled at my back, nails digging in painfully, but I hit the bundle of nerves at the shoulder as hard as I could, effectively numbing his arm.

"You -aren't- alive. You are scum personified, and what's worse, you're dead scum." He attempted to spit into my face. Spitting up works about at well as spitting into the wind, for future reference. I cracked the top of the vial and tilted it minutely. "Can you guess what I've got in here?"

"Human! Vile, reeking, idiotic human. I'll never talk!"

"Wow. I hadn't even asked yet. You things have become prescient?" I leaned in a little closer, just out of the range of his bared, snapping fangs. "Yes. You will talk." I tried out my I'm-in-the-middle-of-a-battle-and-I'm-having-the-time-of-my-life grin on him, but it didn't do much. That look definitely worked better when you were a decent sized guy. A little blond just doesn't get the same mileage out of it.

"Never! I will die first! Long live the true king, death to the usurper-"

"Would you shut up or tell me something useful? I don't have all night you know." I tilted the bottle a little more and a sparkling drop hung poised at the lip of the vial. "A little birdie told me holy water does wonders for the complexion. Wanna try it and find out?"

"Holy-? Die!" He wrenched his arm out from under my knee and grabbed my neck, his fingers digging in till they drew blood. I did the only thing I could think of. I tucked the pistol firmly underneath his chin and pulled the trigger. Blood, bone shards and ashes scattered all over the pavement. The body beneath me dissolved and I fell heavily to the ground. Looking up, I shook my head slowly. An alley behind an apartment building. A silencer can only go so far. You'd think a fight and a gun shot would have made a at least -one- person stick their head out the window. Sighing, I climbed to my feet and brushed the ashes off my jeans. Blood streaked the arm of my jacket. Addressing the spots left on the ground, I spoke wryly. "Thanks. Now I'll have to get it cleaned." Spinning on my heel, I stalked off into the night.

Once I was back on a lighted street I pulled out a cell phone and punched in a very, very closely guarded number.

"Kushrenada here. What?"

"It's Lena. I hope you're not busy, 'cause I got more bad news for you."

"What?" His voice turned guarded, and I could almost see him through the phone, tense, waiting.

"I caught another one, early in my rounds. Same MO. Death to the humans, death to the usurper, all that fun stuff."

There was a pause on the line. You could almost hear the clicks as Trieze turned over his options. "Damn. That's the third one in two weeks."

"I know, I caught two of them, remember?"

Treize sighed. "Enough. Tonight, I do –not- want you disappearing to that clu-"

I smiled and rolled my eyes as I clapped the phone shut. If I didn't hear orders, I couldn't disobey them, now could I? My phone rang again, insistently. I ignored it and waited for the ringing to stop. Waiting till I passed a group of laughing teenagers to turn my phone off, one caught my eye. A girl with short blond hair ran a quick, cynical eye over me, then turned to her friend and said something that made them both laugh. I bit down hard on the urge to say something. They were much too young to be as cynical as they seemed intent on being. Most of them probably had homes that they should be going to. A quick look at my watch showed 12:30. A pang of sorrow sped through me. Stupid teenagers. I had better not have to kill one of them soon…

As soon as I was passed I broke into an easy, ground eating lope. Stopping after a half mile or so, I tugged my clothes into place and smoothed my hair in a dark store window. Turning a corner into what looked like a dark alley, a bass beat began thrumming through my feet. I yanked open a back door and a burst of music spilled out and surrounded me. Slipping inside, I nodded to a tall red-head who went by. "Door duty tonight Trowa?" A brief nod in return was all I got before he vanished into the crowd. I grinned as I made my way up to the bar. Poor guy. You'd think working in a club as amazing as Blue Heaven would have gotten him to open up more.

Blue Heaven is a special place, even in a city known for its clubs. From the out side it looks like an old warehouse. Actually, that exactly what is used to be. The back way in is an old alleyway, the front is the old loading dock. The outside hasn't been changed at all. The inside though…That's another story entirely.

The front doors open into the bar, a raised platform that rings the dance floor. The platform is two feet up, and smoke issues from under the steps going down to the floor. The bar takes up the entire back wall, a long, dark, mahogany and brass monstrosity of immense age and stature. In the middle of the floor there is a circular stage that the dancers swirl around. There are cast iron, spiral staircases in each corner of the first floor, leading up to a balcony with a low railing, overlooking the dance floor. On the balcony, there are tall café tables and high chairs against the walls, interspersed with piles of huge, black, beanbag cushions. Couple and friends who want to talk can be found snuggling on a pile of cushions, or gathered six to a table. The entire building is done in blue and purple and black, with splashes of bright red and pink thrown in for color. The walls of a dance floor are actually a huge mural of Van Gogh's 'Night Sky' with a huge silver moon. The stars are tiny strings of icicle lights, draped across the ceiling like real stars.

On one side of the balcony, there is a set of stairs leading to the third floor. Tucked into a dark corner and closed with a velvet rope, the stairs lead to offices and the very well soundproofed apartment of the couple that runs the club. A set of dark red cushions, the only ones of that color in the house, are reserved for the lady that owns the club, and her special guests.

It was into this dizzyingly dark and subtly swirling paradise of a club that I made her entrance. Making my way through the loud, laughing crowd, I settled at the bar, imperiously gesturing for a bartender. It was a new girl, so I simply asked where 'The Lady' was. It was how everyone knew the owner, a tall, stunning woman with ridiculously long blonde hair. The girl pointed down the bar mutely and I turned to see Dorothy grab a man's shoulder and hustle him away from the bar towards the door. I smiled and turned back to the bartender. She would be busy for a while. When she had to toss someone out, she usually found a way to make them remember it. "A water for upstairs and could you tell the Lady that Lena is waiting for her?"

The girl nodded and spoke into the mouth piece of her headset, no doubt telling the Eyes upstairs about the request. She pulled a water out and plunked it on the bar top. "House says it's comped. Have fun tonight."

With a quick smile she turned back to her other customers. I dropped my water into my pocket and made my way through the rapidly thickening throng to the floor. Slipping into the midst of the dancers, I reveled in the energy for a moment, before dancing my way towards the far side of the floor. Someone caught my hips and swung me in a tight circle, pressing close to me back. I let myself flow with the motion but every muscle my body tensed. The hands, they were much too cold for this hot room, and the body temperature was nil. Spinning in the vampire's embrace, I slid my hand down my body and smiled wickedly up at him. Dipping my other hand into my pocket, I slipped a little black button into his coat without him noticing. Later, when I left the club, I would follow the tracking device he now carried and dust this bastard. With a last fake, simpering smile, I slipped into the crowd and off the floor. I climbed the stairs to the balcony, enjoying the view below. Settling on the dark red cushions, still drinking in the energy of the giant warehouse, I leaned back and closed my eyes, waiting for Dorothy.

Someone settled onto the cushion and my eyes popped wide open. Grinning, I leaned over and gave Dorothy an affectionate hug. "I missed you this week. I haven't been playing hooky enough lately!"

Dorothy laughed, a throaty, sexy sound. "I'm glad you're not playing hooky any more than you are. If you weren't the best agent in the company your ass would be grass.

"Too right!" I settled back and sipped at my water. "You've got another vampire on the floor, but I promise, I won't dust him in here."

Dorothy grimaced. "Thank you. It would cut off a source of information that you need if the vampires stopped coming here. Oh and, by the way, the new Goth girl who's tending downstairs? It's not makeup that makes her so white. Leave her alone though."

"Dorothy-"

"No! No killing the help, or you don't get anything! And you need the information too badly."

"Fine." I sighed, a little petulantly I suppose, and took another sip of my water. "These vaunted intelligence sources haven't turned up something on 'The Real King' for me, have they?"

"Actually…" Dorothy paused, smiling secretively. "They have. I predict you get a call to go to New Orleans sometime tonight."

"What! New Orleans? That's way out of my territory. Why would I go there?"

"Because you're the remaining half of the team that took down the last Court. You're famous in both worlds and you're in demand. My information says that the New Orleans office captured a rouge female. She's still alive, though for how much longer is anyone's guess."

I sat back and frowned, wrinkling my nose. "A live one... That –is- useful. But can you give me any more? That's not really information about the current problem."

Dorothy sighed. "Go talk to her! She probably has information you can you. By the time you get back, I'll have information for you. But for now, I don't have anything else."

I stuck my tongue out at her and laughed. "I'm sorry. I know I'm bugging you, but I really do need the information." Taking another sip of my water, I capped it and put it in my pocket. "Ok then, I'd better get going."

We hugged again and bussed cheeks. "Goodbye Lena. See you when you get back."

Back outside in the cool night air, I took a deep breath and turned towards my apartment. Crossing a few streets and a pair of railroad tracks, I dropped over a fence into my parking lot. I know, not the most dignified way home, but certainly the fastest. I let myself into my building and jogged up the steps to my apartment. I used to have a housemate, but his room is storage space now, and it's the only place I can stand to have the answering machine. Sure enough, when I checked it, the light was blinking malevolently.

"Miss Darlian, since you haven't seen fit to turn you cell phone back on yet, I will leave a message here. Call the office and get flight information. You're going to New Orleans tonight. The pilot will have a briefing packet for you. Please leave by midnight. Thank you."

Trieze's chilly voice cut off. The man has known my family forever, and he thinks that gives him the right to be more easily annoyed by with me. Since I use it as an excuse to yell at him, something no one else does, I suppose we're even. Sighing once again, I stomped back to my front door and grabbed the overnight bag that lives in the hall closet. Locking the door behind me, I decided that it was going to be a -very- long night.


	2. New Orleans Nightmares

The Wrong Kiss ch. 2

Shinigaminx

Notes: Ok, let's see… First posted fic, so, of course, pleeeease review. Comments will be replied to promptly and flames will be used to toast marshmallows. Oh, and uber AU Relena, but I promise, there is a method to the madness.

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Don't sue me, unless you want the lint in my pockets.

The Wrong Kiss

Shinigaminx

If you ever think nothing can scare you anymore, go have a conversation with a vampire.

The first day in New Orleans I spent the afternoon sacked out on someone's bunk in the women's barracks. I really don't know who it belonged to, and since I don't particularly like plane rides, I didn't really care. Waking a few hours after sunset, I did my thing alongside girls just coming in for the night, just getting off duty. It was odd. These were actually girls in the state police academy. One or two would be hand picked, and would eventually know why there had been a strange woman sleeping in their dorms, one who left to prowl the night when they came in for bed. But most of them would never know about the things that prowl their streets while they're asleep snug in bed. With these interesting, entertaining, and oh-so-cheerful thoughts percolating in my brain, I went to meet the vampire.

If you were to go down into the sub basement of a certain government building in New Orleans, and walk about a mile of dark, dusty, damp corridor, full of twists and turns, you might eventually come to supply closet. A normal supply closet with a normal lock and normal cleaning type stuff in it. Only, there happens to be a false back to this particular closet. Behind the false back there's a wonderful door made of the strongest metal known to man. After shivering my way though the basement corridors behind a stubbornly silent janitorial type, that door shut behind me with a final sound. I walked slowly, counting doors. Behind each of these doors there was something that didn't belong on the streets, something that shouldn't exist. Damn bloodsuckers.

The 6th door on the left was my stop. I typed quickly on the key pad beside the door and it slid open with a hiss. A still form lay curled on an industrial cot. One arm was flung out, attached by a set of silver handcuffs to the bed, which, in turn, was actually part of the floor and the wall. The handcuffs themselves wouldn't stop the figure on the bed, but the door sure as hell would. The hand cuffs were wired with a circuit. The moment the electric circuit broke, ie. when the cuffs were broken open, the room is suffused with a mist of holy water. The vampire would be exceedingly unhappy, and there would be more than enough time to get people down to… deal with the situation.

As I entered the room the door hissed closed behind me. The figure on the bed shifted, stretching languidly. A pair of red eyes peeped up sleepily over a long slender arm. The arm lifted slowly and a hand passed through mussed red hair. The figure slowly resolved itself into a long, lanky girl with pale skin and a dark purple streak two inches wide running from her temple to the base of her head through her dark red hair. She unfolded from her curled up position on the bed and sat up rubbing her eyes. Folding her legs under her Indian style, the vampire girl propped her chin up on her elbow and stared at me. She looked… young. She couldn't have been more than 16 when she was turned.

"Hey."

Her voice was low, earthy, and entirely full of teenage inflections. If her eyes didn't gleam red in the dim light, if her teeth didn't flash at me when she grinned and spoke, I would never have guessed her any different from the blonde girl standing in front of the department store.

"Hello. Do you know why you aren't dead yet?"

Her eyebrow, light brown, quirked upwards. The side of her mouth hitched up in a smile that was almost unwilling. It showed one of her fangs in perfect clarity. "Of -course- I do. You think I'm too valuable to kill. I have information you must want." She rolled her eyes, the picture of teen age superiority.

"You really think so? I promise, I am fully capable of beating anything you can tell me out of any other blood sucker."

She laughed a rich, dark laughter. "Oh man, are you one deluded lady. If you name is Kitten Peacecraft, you need me more than you could possibly know." She ran her hand through her hair again and straightened her clothes as best as she could with one hand. Her movements were awkward and she kept rattling the chain the bound her to the bed. It took me a moment to reply because the only one I had -ever- told that nickname to, after I moved up north, was supposed to be dead, and dead men tell no tales. Undead, it's an entirely different story, but my partner… I moved across the room and grabbed the hand she was fidgeting with before I knew what I was doing. If I'd been holding a human they would have had bruises from my nails when we were done. The vampire girl didn't look put out in the least.

"Yes?"

"Why. Did. You. Call. Me. That?"

She laughed again, the sound bringing me back to reality. She easily pulled her hand out of my grasp and shook it. "Strong grip for a little human girl, Kitty." She made a weird half bow from her sitting position. "Detria, at you service. And if you want to know any more than that, you'll let me out of this metal coffin."

Well, teenage arrogance strikes again. And gains a point for the visiting team. The sheer complacent certainty in Detria's voice made me want to slap her. Not a good impulse under the best of circumstances, and an even worse you when the person you want to slap isn't human. I struggled, fighting my first comments down. The one about her lineage had to be beaten with a stick, but it eventually died quietly. I smiled a small cautious smile. "And, pray tell, why should I get you out of here? So you can go eat another innocent person?"

She rolled her eyes at me. "Jeeze. No, you should get me out of here so I can tell you what you so desperately want to know."

I really did want to throttle her. She still had an all too human edge to her attitude. 3 maybe 4 years as a vampire, tops. "Why shouldn't I just torture you? I'm sure I could get the information out that way." I offered the suggestion casually, hoping the revulsion I felt at it didn't show.

"Ha. Yeah, right. If you were going to torture me for information, you wouldn't have come all the way down south. You would have used some flunky." She unfolded her legs and put them on the floor, resting lightly on the balls of her feet. If her arm wasn't handcuffed to the bed, we could have been just a pair of girls having a talk in a barracks dorm. An interesting, if disquieting image. I much prefer my vampires ravening and trying to kill me. That made my job so much easier. "All right, what do you want for the information? And believe me; I'm going to get it one way or another, so your offer better be good."

She broke into a wide grin. "Alright, now you're talking." She leaned forward and put her elbows on her knees. "Ok, you get me out of this oversized metal coffin and back into some real air, and I'll tell you everything you want to know. Then, you give me 5 seconds." Detria shrugged, a cocky air about her. "Then you can do whatever you want. If you can kill me, good for you."

Being a diplomat's kid can have its plusses. I didn't even think about it, it was just, "How do I know you're not lying? How do I know you know anything? No dice."

"Oh, come on." She flopped back against the wall, throwing her free arm up into the air. "You wouldn't be down here if you didn't think I knew something. I wouldn't be alive if you didn't think I knew something. And I wouldn't sound like a broken record, but you don't believe me." Heaving a huge, obviously fake sigh, she said, "Look, I know who the Queen is. And I know who the King is. And I know how to find both of them." She winked at me. "I might even tell you how to find them."

I gritted my teeth as I gave my answer. I -really- dislike being maneuvered into a corner. But in this case, I would make an acceptation. After all, a young vampire can't run far enough away in 5 seconds that I can't shoot her. "All right. Fine. Anything they took from you that you want to die with?"

Detria laughed. "Oh, I do like you." She pointed to the wall on my right. "Halfway up, a door comes out of the wall. They took a bunch of my stuff and the keys for these," she rattled the handcuffs, "are in there."

I walked over and banged on the wall. "Open up, I have jurisdiction. She's mine now." The speakers hidden in the room would catch me. Sure enough, a door opened in the wall and I pulled out jewelry and two sets of keys. One, the keys to the handcuffs, I kept and the other I tossed with everything else to the girl. I called for the door to open and I drew my pistol, training it on Detria's forehead. I'm not stupid. As the door hissed open, I unlocked the hand cuffs and backed away slowly. "Don't try anything dumb. I want you to talk before I kill your rotting corpse again."

Detria stood languidly, a process that seemed to take an awful long time, and shook out her long limbs. I could tell now she stood about 5'8, maybe 5'9, tall for a girl. Baggy black capris were now secured with a studded black belt. A black tank top, perfect for the balmy nights here in New Orleans, was tight and showed off the vampire girl's body to perfection. She slapped on a plastic bracelet with long points, the whole thing in the unlikely color of baby blue. It settled comfortably above a chain that I hadn't noticed her wearing. It was a chain that looked like it was supposed to be attached and holding someone down, not like a fashion accessory. Interesting thought. There aren't that many things willing or able to restrain a vampire. Several rings were donned, to grace her long fingers and a single necklace, a winged faerie wrapped around a bottle of glitter, nestled around her long neck. She hooked a pair of sunglasses into the rim of her tank top and looked at me expectantly.

Oh, dear god. Wait, forget that, there is no god. If here was a god, then the vision, (hey I'll admit, she was gorgeous) in front of me wouldn't look like a harmless 16 year old kid.

Now, I'm not that much older than 16, and I know looks can be deceiving, especially when you're that age, but she really did look like some harmless punk girl. I shook my head, trying to clear it. Motioning out the door with my gun, I followed her into the hall. We got to the top of the stairs and made our way out into the night. By now I had moved closer and taken one arm, just like we were friends going for a walk. The pistol was pressed into her side, pointing up at her heart. Her skin was cool, but not clammy, and I didn't feel the revulsion I usually did whenever I touched a vampire. We left the building and I maneuvered her across the street, into a park. There was no one here at almost midnight. Behind a screen of trees, we were hidden from view and there was a long open stretch in front of us. No where for a fleeing vampire to go. Good. I quickly distanced myself from the girl, but kept my gun trained on her chest. Like I said, I'm not stupid.

"Ok, talk."

Detria raised an eyebrow. "Wow. That's not open ended at all. What -exactly- would you like me to tell you?"

Son of a- She was going to be difficult. I could already tell. "Why don't you tell me about the King and Queen? In case you didn't know, I had the pleasure of working with the man who put the shish-kabob on the last court, and I thought he'd done a pretty good job of it."

"Yeah, he did. The last court was completely decimated, and the apparent leader was killed." She grinned, her fangs flashing. "Oh, but unfortunately, he didn't get the –real- King. Or his psycho daughter."

"So, the King and Queen are the two people Duo didn't kill? I mean my partner." I took a small step closer. "And I don't like having to pull teeth to get a full answer. You -might- try telling me all the relevant information, so I don't have to fish for it."

"But, the fishing is good for you. It challenges your mind." Detria held up her hands quickly. "Sorry, joking. No, the Queen is the daughter of the old King, as he abdicated in favor of her. She's set up her court here in New Orleans. Now, realizing that you're the do-gooder type, I'm going to warn you. You don't want to just march in and take her on. She's been collecting vampires to serve as her court and her army."

"And the King?" This was a little better.

"Ah…" Detria sighed and a dreamy looked passed quickly over her face. "His Majesty holds court in the north. The two of them… do not get along well. They have differing view on what it means to be a vampire."

"So, is there any chance they'll just kill each other and all I'll have to do is come in and mop up?" A quick shake of the head. Darn, and I was so hoping I'd get it easy. "Ok, what do you mean, they don't get along?"

And here she paused, thinking carefully. I had a feeling I was about to get an edited version of the twisted truth. "The Queen is of the old school. And I do mean old school. She's more than 800 years old. She was the first woman her father, her master, turned. She's been his pet for a very long time." Her face took on a graver cast, became a little harder. "She kills indiscriminately. Contrary to your t.v. shows, vampires do have a little cricket in their head telling them right from wrong." Detria made a face. "I think she killed hers. Only, I bet she tortured it first. His Majesty, on the other hand, most emphatically does -not-. He abhors waste."

I rolled my eyes this time. "So that means he kills on person a night, not two. Big deal. He's still unnatural." Also, would you trust the word of someone so obviously partisan? I didn't think so.

Detria looked me slowly up and down, her eye gleaming in the low light. "We're unnatural?" She paused and I had the oddest feeling, like someone walked over my grave. "What do you hunt?"

What did I hunt? Ok, that one came out of left field some where. I grinned, much more cockily than I felt. "Things that go bump in the night. What else?"

"But what, -exactly- do you hunt? Us? Don't you use witches for find us sometimes?" We did. How the hell did she know that? "Doesn't your bible say, 'Thou shall not suffer a witch to live'? So don't you -use- unnatural people?"

I shook my head. She wasn't the one asking questions here, or at least, she wasn't supposed to be. "It doesn't matter how we operate, or what you think of it. I hunt vampires. I kill vampires. End of story."

"When you get back you should ask one of the witches you work with how many other witches she knows. I'll bet she tells you she doesn't know any. You could ask her if we're the only thing she can find, or if there are others."

All of a sudden she moved forward, so fast I couldn't follow the movement with my eyes. I tried to bring the gun up and shoot her, but I couldn't. I wasn't fast enough. She grabbed on hand and pulled it way from the gun, her long fingers curling mine and pressing her palm it mine in a lover like gesture. And then it hit me. Her memories. I was caught in whirling, sinking feeling, sucked down into her mind. She was -much- older than I thought she was. 3 years old? Hah, try 300. 300 hundred years she been alive, turned by the one she called His majesty. She felt something like love towards him, but he was devoted to his new- That memory stopped abruptly. All I caught was a flash of a long chestnut braid. And then, the feelings slowed and I could breathe again. I felt blood coursing over my lips and my limbs were filled with a manic and exultant energy. I could do anything. I had fed. I waited for death to strike the person that the memories showed her feeding on, wondering dully what someone's death felt like to a vampire. It never came. An unbelievable sadness filled my heart and the human was pushed away, not dead, but like they'd had blood drawn. A young boy's face smiled up at me. Oh my god! He'd chosen to do this! Then I was drawing back, retreating to my own body, the message thundering in my brain. 300 years and one death. A death that caused much more pain than I felt whenever I killed a vampire. Her first victim. She hadn't known any better.

I was back, myself once more, but stunned into inaction. Detria was… Detria was gone. A low laugh floated at me from everywhere at once. "5 seconds, darling, 5 seconds." And then she was gone. I slowly bent down and picked up my gun. I had dropped it sometimes when I was stuck in Detria's mind. Feeling something trickle sluggishly down my chin, I touched my lip. Ow. I had bitten it hard enough to draw blood. My cheeks flamed. A memory, mine this time, of Detria licking the blood from my lip and whispering in my ear, "Ask another friendly vampire to shake hands with you. You might find it interesting."

In case you missed it, homage being paid to Pinocchio, the scariest children's movie of all time. Yay for Jiminy Cricket.


	3. More Dreaming

The Wrong Kiss ch. 3

Shinigaminx

Notes: Ok, let's see… First posted fic, so, of course, pleeeease review. Comments will be replied to promptly and flames will be used to toast marshmallows. Oh, and uber AU Relena, but I promise, there is a method to the madness.

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Don't sue me, unless you want the lint in my pockets.

The Wrong Kiss

Shinigaminx

After Detria disappeared in what might as well have been a puff of mist, I spent the remainder of that long night stalking the streets. As luck would have it, I ran across a 'pyre just as I was about to retire for the day, only to have one of my New Orleans counterparts show up just as I was about to make the kill. After dusting the 'pyre he cursed me soundly in French and what I think might have been Latin, of all things. And, if you would believe it, his only reason was a belief that women weren't good enough fighters to do this job. I don't think, if he hadn't taken my kill, I wouldn't have taken out my frustrations on him. As it is, I did and I hope he never thinks girls can't do this job again, cause if he does, I don't kick as hard as I think I do.

All in all, an -extremely- boring night, and a bit of a let down after the build up Detria had given me about the evil vampyre queen. The only weirdness I experienced, other that the normal oddity the is New Orleans, was a constant nagging feeling that something was watching me. Now, I know what you're thinking, she chases nightmares for a living and she's -surprised- she's cracking up? But really, I don't get the willies. I do have to occasional thought that something is stomping around on my grave, but I like being outside at night when everything is dark and quiet. There is a certain odd, peaceful, and sometimes frightening fatality about it. That night though? Every time I spun around I always thought I could see something ducking around a corner. Every time I turned a corner, something flitted into the street with me. And I could never, never find it or see it. It is a rather disturbing feeling.

When I finally gave up, after making sure my co-worker was singing soprano in Saint Pat's, I decided that I would much rather spend the day in a hotel than I would being stared at by off-duty cadets. I slumped into a b&b in the French Quarter just after 4 a.m. One of the nicest things about New Orleans is the totally absence of normalcy. Ok, so that's an exaggeration, but really, where else can you go into a typical house and ask the nice French lady who doesn't speak two words of English for a room? And then immediately get one? I really love this town. I went upstairs, dragging my little carry all and just dropped into bed. I didn't even bother changing. I just grabbed my teddy and went to sleep.

Yes, fine, I have a teddy bear. I know, very juvenile, very girly. I am happy to say I have never and will never take it on an assignment when I have a partner, so no one except Duo knows about it. I always have to chuckle when I think about it. Duo and I used to share and apartment. One birthday I woke up and there was this big brown teddy with a giant pink bow around it's neck. It was absolutely the most adorable thing. I went flying out of my room and across the hall to Duo's and jumped on his bed. In that utterly delectable morning voice of his he said, that, while he couldn't think of a better way to wake up, what in hell's name was I doing?

My 16th Birthday

"Oh, Duo, you sweetie!" I threw myself on top of his bed, hugging and kissing him. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I laughed and kissed him again. He grabbed me and held me still, kissing me lightly on the lips before shoving me off him and tumbling me onto the floor. He sat and quickly hitched the sheet higher. Duo sleeps naked and I almost got a view that would have been very nice but not something you show to girls at- A quick glance at the clock showed my the ungodly hour of 6 pm. The sun wasn't due to set for an hour yet. Duo slowly shook his head at me, chuckling. "Kitten, aren't you glad I didn't have company? I don't think any of my friends would have appreciated you enthusiastic thank you. Now," and here he seemed to catch sight of my teddy, clutched to my chest. He did a double but take continued. "What are you thanking me for?"

I slowly extended Teddy, confused. "You... remembered my birthday?"

Duo took her and turned her over several times, touching the big pink bow gently. "Um, Kitten? Did you look your room over before you came running in here?" I shook my head, mute. He sighed. "Some day we're going to break you of those civilian habits of yours." He tossed Teddy back and I caught her, cradling her to my chest. "It hasn't blown up yet and I don't think it's going to do anything really interesting. Get out of here so I can get dressed and we'll go look at your room."

I nodded, quiet, and slipped out. A chill wound it's way up and down my spine. If Duo hadn't given me Teddy, then who had? No one had been in my room...

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

We never found out who gave me Teddy, but I still have her, and I love her. And don't laugh. I'd only been a real hunter for a week or two then. I'd never do that now. Anyway, that night, after Detria, I just couldn't sleep. I kept dreaming.

I am laying in bed, my old bed, the little day bed in the apartment I shared with Duo. I was turning 16 again. I'm so excited. My eyelids droop and I fight to stay awake. I have to stay awake for something, something I didn't quite get the first time. My head rolls sideways in the pillow, so heavy. I can't move, I'm trapped, but it's ok. It's ok, it's ok. Someone nice is coming. Dad? No, you're dead I... I watched you die. Blood, and Mommy screaming, and the man biting your neck. No, it's ok, it's not Daddy. I blink sleepy eyes and smile at the man standing over my bed. He seems uncomfortable, uneasy. He glances at the window. My black window, keeping the sunlight out. I am so tired, I just have to sleep. I offer him a little smile and he leans down, kissing me lightly on the lips. Something being put at the foot of my bed... It will be Teddy...

I sat bolt upright in the little hotel bed. The tap dripped in the bathroom, a steady slow beat for me to concentrate on as I tried to calm my thundering heart. The shades were drawn tightly, as a glimmer of morning light peaked in. What woke me up? What demanded my attention? Nothing in the room moved, not even a breeze. The heat coming in around my curtains was oppressive. Suddenly there was a light tap at the door.

"Maid?" I swore under my breath. "No, no, sleeping." Belatedly remembering my manners, "Thank you." I sank down back into the pillows, wondering about the dream as sleep reached out to take me under again. Had there actually been someone in my room?

I am on the floor at Blue Heaven, dancing and being jostled by people on all sides. It is more crowded than ever. Why isn't warmer then? The floor is much colder than it normally is. Hands slip around my waist and rest themselves on my upper thighs. The material of my skirt seems -really- thin. The hands are so cold, they feel like they're going to burn through my skirt. They pull me back, into a close embrace with a cold body. It's a man, a very aroused man. His hands slide higher, reaching under my shirt, caressing my stomach, slowly moving higher. A girl in front of my turns around and adds her hands to his. She reaches out, resting a hand on my hip and sliding the other down my chest, between my breasts. There are people on all sides of me now, touching, caressing, exciting. Their hands are all so cold. A tiny part of my brain tells me they are all pyres but I don't care. Someone raises my arms, someone else pulls my shirt up, up and off. There are hands all over me and I moan, shivering with delight. A mouth touches mine, swallowing the sounds I make. A hand gently touches my right breast, then another, and another. They play with my nipple, rubbing it, rolling their thumbs over it. A mouth latches on to the other breast, sucking gently. My skirt falls to pieces and drops away from my body. A hand cups my most private area, massaging it with questing fingers. I want to scream with frustration. There are so many hands and no one will finish this beautiful torture. The I feel lips on my neck and shoulders, dozens of them. Teeth gently scrape the skin and the sensation travels directly to my stomach. Then someone bites down. A flash of pain sends white light streaking across behind my eye lids. Another set of teeth tear into my shoulder. I feel the blood trickle down my chest and someone licks it off, roughly, hungrily, like a cat. The mouth on my breast digs in fangs and blood courses out like milk. I want to scream but the mouth still covers mine, and it too bites down, piercing my lip. It begins to suck, drawing my blood into it's own mouth. I can taste it. The copper, salty, tangy flavor is every where. I can't get away. My blood drains and my head spins. I lurch, falling over-

God -damn- it! I ran my hand over my mouth and it cames away red. I had bitten my lip in my sleep and there was blood flooding into my mouth. I swallowed the bitter liquid, letting the familiar taste run over my tongue. The bleeding quickly stopped and I licked the blood off my hand. I shivered, remembering the feel of hands running over my body and the traitorous thing responded to the memory. Good lord. If a dream could do this, I needed to get out more often. I swore softly and buried back under the covers. I let my eyes rest on the bright mid-day sun till sleep claimed me again.

It's late, and it's cold, the stars beginning to fade, preparing to give way to the false dawn. My breath steams in the winter air, fogging the air in front of my face. Someone laughs, a pretty girl's laugh, and a long chestnut braid swings around a corner. I run after it, chasing the flashing, jingling bells braided into the very end. Braided in for Christmas. They tinkle merrily, teasing me. "Duo, Duo, please slow down, please?" He knows I can't run as fast as he can. The braid whips around another corner. Why is he doing this? The braid seems to go around more than one corner. It's there- no there- no the- A long sweeping coat, a New England pea coat, swings around another corner. Where are these corners coming form? Wait, that's Daddy's coat! Why is Daddy with Duo? I can't catch my breath anymore, I've run too far. Why aren't they stopping? The stars are all gone now, and the world is poised on the knife edge between dark and dawn. The darkness reaches out, wanting me, but the light burns. I spin around, faster and faster, where can I go, where is it safe-

My blood pounded in my ears, leaving me deaf and dumb to the world around me. I couldn't breath right, there was something on my- I thrashed about, my chest constricted and my body immobile. I finally broke free, lading unceremoniously on the floor. The bed was a mass of tangled sheets and torn apart bedding. I touched my shoulder, feeling the sweat soaking my upper body. Panting unsteadily, I forced myself into the bath room and the shower. Standing under the cool spray, I began to feel a little better, not nearly so panicky. What had come over me? I shivered and turned the heat up, just a little. I lolly-gagged for long moments, letting the spray pound my naked back, massage my aching shoulders. I had to go. I needed to go back to New York. I had failed here. I let Detria get away and I didn't know much more than I started with. Squaring my shoulders I decided that I would take the little I did know and do something with it. There were two courts now? OK, fine. I would take them both out, even if I did have to do it myself. But I would start on my home ground and work south. They would rue the day Detria had spoken to me. It would be the beginning of the end for them.

Isn't it odd how brave you are in the shower?


	4. Partners

The Wrong Kiss ch. 4 

Shinigaminx

Notes: Ok, let's see… First posted fic, so, of course, pleeeease review. Comments will be replied to promptly and flames will be used to toast marshmallows. Oh, and uber AU Relena, but I promise, there is a method to the madness.

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Don't sue me, unless you want the lint in my pockets.

The Wrong Kiss

Shinigaminx

"What? You're assigning me a -partner-? No way in HELL!"

I placed my hands carefully on Trieze's desk. Leaning forward till I was mere inches from his face, I annunciated very carefully. "I will not accept a partner."

He gazed dispassionately at me. "You don't have a choice." I struggled to keep my breathing under control. Drawing back and taking my hands off his desk, I silently counted to 10.

"Trieze, I don't think you heard me. I will not shepherd around some wet behind the ears recruit at the same time I try to take out -2- vampire courts!" I leaned in again. "They. Will. Die."

I spun on my heels and slammed out the door. Stopping in the hallway, I planted my feet, closed my eyes, and raised my voice to a not un-impressive level. "I hate you, Trieze!" It didn't do anything, and I knew I would be getting a partner, but it did relive my frustrations some. Hey, two plane rides in 48 hours makes me an unhappy person. Not to mention the fact that I was still smarting from Detria. Opening my eyes, I mimed skirts and swept a perfect curtsy to some girl in a skirt and heels, who was sitting in the hallway.

"His Excellency will see you now." With a curt nod, I started out of the office and stopped to say Hi to Catherine. The door closed behind me again, considerably quieter this time. Almost immediately it opened again.

"Darlian! If you would come back a moment. There's someone I would like you to meet." Catherine shot me an 'I'm sympathetic, but you deserve this' type of glance. I rolled my eye and wheeled around. Trieze stood in his doorway, waiting. I walked slowly back, a sinking feeling floating in my gut. I stopped just inside the office door. Trieze returned to his desk and motioned to one of the chairs in front of it. There were two chairs, and was one occupied by the girl in a skirt. I shook my head.

"Fine. Relena Darlian, I'd like you to meet your new partner, Jenna Morganson. Jenna, meet Relena."

The girl held out a limp, bored hand and I shot Trieze a poisonous look before I shook it, dropping it as if it were on fire. This, this -baby doll- was my new partner? If looks could kill, Trieze would be so unbelievably dead. "Nice to meet you Ms. Morganson."

"A pleasure, I'm sure. Please, call me Jenna."

Her voice was soft and smooth, with a bit of the odd accent that is so often associated with Boston. You know, paak the caah in the haavad yaad? She stood and shook out her skirts and I really looked at her for the first time. She wasn't tall, but she wasn't short like me. Probably 5'5, 5'6 with out those cute, but totally inappropriate, high heeled sandals. She was lean, but solid looking. The kind of look you get from a model that actually has hips. Athletic looking, but tennis athletic, not 'I have so many belts you don't even want to -think- about messing with me' athletic. Her black hair was cropped short in a cutesy pageboy style and her large hazel eyes were covered by the thickest, longest lashes I've seen in long time. She stood with her back straight, but eyes downcast, and a feeling of meekness almost radiated from her. She honestly looked like a Barbie Doll whose breasts have been downsized. Though not, I though uncharitably, but by much.

I immediately felt ashamed. No, she would never have been my first choice for a partner. But never the less, she -was- my partner, and I has better like her or someday my back was gonna be open when I though someone was covering it. I dredged up a small smile from the part of me that was still a diplomat's kid.

"Jenna then. My friends call me Lena. I'd be honored to have you use it." Hey, what can I say? Once you learn it, you never forget it.

The dirtbag behind the desk graced us with a smile. "Good. Darlian, you might as well take Morganson out on rounds tonight. Get her feet wet. Have fun ladies." It was clearly a dismissal and I took it as such. Walking quickly out of the office and past Catherine again, I didn't stop till I got to the elevators at the end of the hall. Jenna wasn't with me. I turned. My new partner had picked up a bag from somewhere and was exchanging pleasantries with Catherine. I coughed discreetly and she nodded a last time and hurried to catch up with me. The elevator doors opened and we ascended in silence. Emerging into the underground car park, I headed straight for my bike. Stopping at it I cursed quietly and inventively. By the time the baby doll caught up, I was well into my small but useful store of Japanese. I only had one helmet and she was wearing a skirt. Great. I turned. "Hang on a moment. I have to figure out how to get us back to my apartment."

She nodded, surveying my baby silently. "I've always loved Shadows. It's an 83?"

"No, 85. Same year I was born." This time the smile was genuine. People can pretty much redeem themselves instantly by knowing what my baby is. "Look, you're in skirt. You want to borrow one of the guys' cars?"

"No, not if you have a helmet I can use." She shrugged and smiled. "Maybe someone driving by will appreciate the view."

Well, did that just beat all. A sense of humor. Maybe this would work after all. I grinned and walked quickly over to one of the other bikes in the lot. It was my friend Jacob's GSXR, one of the newest models. A racing bike, and a hell of a lot more uncomfortable than my bike, let me tell you that. There was a passenger helmet under the net on the back seat and I slipped it out, tossing it to Jenna. I patted my pockets, looking for something I could leave in its place so he would know who took it. I found a receipt and a pen. Scrawling my name and 'back in 30' on the back, I slipped it under the net. Turning, I saw Jenna had put on a jacket and was pulling the helmet on. I slipped mine over my head and kicked my Shadow to life. She slid on behind me, tucked her skirt in, and grabbed my belt. With a roar we were gone, into the city.

It's only a 15 minute ride to my apartment, especially on a night when there's no traffic, and we hit the jackpot that night. We passed maybe a two dozen cars. It sounds like a lot but in New York, that's unheard of, even at 11:30, 12 o'clock. As we spun into my lot, I sighed. It's always nice to be home. I pulled up in front of the door and Jenna hopped off. Tipping my shield up I said, "Wait for me here. I have to park the beast, then I'll show you in." At the back of the lot I pulled the giant black cover over my bike and hurried back. Jenna stood under the light on the doorway, her head down and her hands clasped in front of her. She looked like an angel from a renaissance painting, and about 15. Another wave of doubt hit me. This kid was going to be my partner? Yeah, she was bigger than I was, but she looked like a teenager. A preppy, naïve, valley girl teenager.

Moving past her, I tapped in the security code and turned my key. "Hope you like stairs. The elevator never works."

Five flights up, I ushered her into my apartment and closed the door. Looking her up and down critically I said, "You had –better- change into something else. I'm not sure I have anything that would fit you though."

She shrugged and held up her bag. "Don't worry, I don't usually look like this. I just came from dinner with my mother."

"Ah." I nodded. "Ok, second door on the right, light switch is a pull chain on the ceiling." Pointing her in the right direction I dived in to the closet next to the door, looking for my old helmet. "Do you have a coat too? It can get cold later." I pulled a very old leather jacket off the hanger and inspected it critically. It would do. I tossed on the table next to the door.

"Um, no. Can I borrow one?"

"Yeah, sure." Looking for the helmet again, I paused. If I was going to take her to Blue Heaven with my, I needed to know how old she was so no nosy cops busted Dorothy. "Jenna? How old are you?"

Silence. Then, "23."

Oh, bullshit. That made her older than me. I wasn't going to be 22 till the beginning of the summer, 2 months from now. I straightened up and glared at the closed bathroom door. I managed a pleasant tone for my next question. "OK, now that we have the age you –want- to be, what's you real age?"

The door opened and Jenna came out. The change was… starling, to say the least. She now looked like she could have been 20, although I was pretty sure that was the carefully done make-up she'd put on. She'd put on long black pants and low-heeled black boots, with a white white-beater showing off her black bra. A loose, burgundy, velvet choker finished her outfit. She looked comfortably and dressed to hunt. "I'm sorry? I don't understand the problem. You don't believe I'm 23?"

Not by a long shot, sister, makeup or no. "I'm sorry that I have to ask, but could I please see some id? You must get carded all the time." I smiled sweetly and held my hand out.

She pulled a wallet out of her back pocket and handed it to me. I flipped it open and there on top was a military id, saying she was 23. I looked her up and down again, pulling the id to inspect the back. If it was a fake, it was a damn good one. Sliding it back in, I tossed the wallet back. "I apologize. You understand security though, being a military child, and your mother's daughter."

Jenna's eyes flickered to the wallet in her hand, to her bag and back to me. She shot me a hard glance. "What? I'm not sure I understand you…"

I shrugged. "Oh, a mistake, I suppose. You look a great deal like the daughter of a famous congress person. Now," I turned back to the closet, suspicions confirmed. I definitely knew who she was, and didn't care. But lying to me wasn't going to cut it. "Go sit down in the living room. We'll go out as soon as I find the helmet."

I heard her move into my living room and sit on the couch. She moved restlessly as I stood on tiptoe, trying to see the top shelf. I let the awkward silence stretch for another moment, before I found the helmet. Scooping the jacket up with it, I strode into the living room and dumped it on the couch next to her. Moving to stand by the balcony doors, I gazed out at the city, the traffic lights casting flickering shadows along the building lining the road. It was my city, even if parts of it were doing their best to kill me. To avoid the whole dying issue, we have partners who watch our backs. This works great on paper, but in the field you need to trust your partner absolutely, if either of you are to live. Maybe it was because I'd only had one partner, who's never, never lied to me, but I couldn't trust a girl who did lie to me.

"Look…" I spoke over my shoulder, watching her reflection in the glass. "Jenna. I know that's your real name. At least you're real first name. But I know the Morganson thing is crap. It's a beautiful i.d., and I'd love to have one with another identity for myself. But either you can tell me who you really are…" She shifted, moving to the edge of the seat and glaring at my back. "Or I can tell you who you are, and then we can go to your mother and ask her why her daughter is passing herself off as a 23 year old vampire hunter. I really have to wonder, does she know?"

I could feel Jenna's eyes burning holes in me, but I didn't turn around. I was bluffing, and I didn't know if she'd pick up on it, but I couldn't take the chance. I needed to know what she was made of.

"Fine." She gave, but only a little. Her voice was harder than granite. "Since you obviously know about my mother, maybe you can help me. You seem like a decent enough person, if a hard nosed bitch." I couldn't help myself, my jaw dropped when I heard her say that. She never talks on t.v. and she always looks so sweet. "My mother doesn't know I'm here. She thinks I'm safely off the college and hopefully she won't find out about me being gone for a month or so. When she does, I'll call her, tell her she can stay the hell out of my life. I don't want to be 'Congress-person LeBeau's daughter' for the rest of my life, and I certainly don't want to be 'President LeBeau's daughter' either."

At that I turned around. "So, she's really running for president?"

Jenna crossed her arms and stared into space.

"OK, sorry. Thank you for telling me the truth. I know it doesn't sound like much now, and that you're pissed, but its better like this. Secrets make great partnerships crappy. And now," I continued in a much gentler voice. "I can help you when your mother –does- find out. We can go over that later though. We have to get going now." I stopped and smiled. "And darling, your… 'disguise'? Isn't gonna cut it. Even if you being with me is extremely odd, the media won't care. Come with me."

She stood up and followed me down the hall.

Fifteen minutes later we rolled out on my bike and Jenna looked like a whole new girl. Her hair was a little shorter, cut in a much edgier style, and had bright fuchsia streaks. She seemed to have a nose ring and piercings marching up her ears. Good fake tattoos that would stand up unless closely inspected adorned her wrists. She still looked like Jenna, but a more punkish, New York Jenna. And she liked. It was what she'd always wanted but couldn't have. While we were putting this stuff on, she'd told me a little about herself, including the interesting fact that she wasn't even as old as I though she was. She was –barely- 19. Her birthday had been a week ago. This girl was –much- too young to be out here fighting, and I was going to have a few words for Trieze next time I saw him. He –had- to know. In the mean time, I would try to keep her mostly out of the way. I sighed and gunned the bike as we hit straight stretch. This was going to be absolutely ghastly.

Please, if you take offense at this term, don't tell me, I don't like it either. I wouldn't use it except I'm pretty sure that if I called it an A-shirt no one would know what I was talking about.


End file.
